17. Where’s The Turkey?

EVANGELINE

"What do you mean we're not having Thanksgiving dinner?" Alistair bellows in outrage. "Where's the turkey? The sweet potatoes?"

Darren forgot to put in the order, and in this small town, no restaurants are open.

He holds up a silencing finger with the phone pressed to his ear. "I don't think you understand. I can pay you anything," Darren insists to the person on the other end. "Yes, I realize you're not a magician and can't make a turkey appear out of thin air." He looks over at me rolling his eyes, but I can't help finding the humor in the situation. "Can you call other grocers and find a turkey?" Darren demands, changing focus. He drops his head and pinches his forehead. "No, I don't think you're a turkey concierge."

"Is there such a thing as a turkey concierge?" he whispers to me, and I shake my head.

Cleo's shoulders shake with laughter, and I can't help but join her.

"Why didn't you just cook a turkey?" Alistair directs his question at me.

Cleo puts a hand on her hip, pressing her lips together and fighting to keep her words in.

"Does having ovaries automatically make me a Michelin chef?" I question, offended.

Alistair, seeing the error of his ways, shuts his mouth while Darren laughs, shoving his phone in his back pocket with a defeated huff.

"Trust me, even eggs and bacon are a stretch." I open my mouth to protest, but he silences me by saying, "And before you get offended, I can barely use the espresso machine, so neither of us are in a position to cook a full-on turkey dinner, even if I were to go out in the woods and shoot one," Darren consoles.

Alistair begins to laugh; first a chortle, and then a full-on attack. He barely gets the words out when he says, "Are you fucking Davy Crockett?"

"No, Alistair. I am not!" Darren curls his fingers into his palm, and I can see the situation escalating so I step in.

"I might have a solution."

* * *

Afew searches on my phone, one call which was received enthusiastically, a twenty-minute drive later, and we're standing outside of the Living Word Ministries.

"I think you planned this," Cleo accuses.

"It's a Methodist church, it would be like cheating on the Catholic. They can smell guilt like a bloodhound, ya know," Alistair declares to Darren.

"Quit making excuses. I would worry less about what your Catholic brethren think and more about your waiter skills." I raise an eyebrow.

"Darren," Alistair whines, ignoring me. "I gave up Caroline and Remington's actual Michelin chef thanksgiving dinner for this." He peers up at the welcome sign that says Feed your faith, and your fears will starve to death. He points dramatically at the red brick building.

Darren is staring at me with a smile, his eyes alight with that ever-present mischief, but now there's something deeper within the hazel swirls. Even though he may have been hesitant about coming here in the beginning, I can feel that hesitation start to ebb away.

Cleo clears her throat breaking the spell. "Kinda cold out here." She pulls me forward, her ankle length leopard print fur coat flapping against my leg.

From behind, I hear Darren chastising Alistair, "If I hear one more complaint, I'm gonna throw you in the lake when we get back to the house."

Inside, the dining hall is decorated with turkey printed table cloths and filled with people. Through the crowd, I notice a young woman with gloves wearing a hair net making rounds refilling cups with a different variety of drinks. I catch her eye and she makes her way over.

"I'm Evangeline. I called earlier," I explain.

"Oh yes!" she exclaims excitedly. "I'm Maria. Thank you so much. We're short on volunteers and could really use the help," she says breathlessly, balancing a tray of drinks.

"You can put your coats over there." She points to a small room off the kitchen and then assesses the four of us. "You," she points to Alistair, "you look strong."

"Well, I mean looks… looks can be deceiving," Alistair stutters.

"Here," she hands him the tray. "Just refill drinks, there's iced tea, lemonade, and water, and you can grab more in the kitchen if you run out."

Alistair balances the tray and wobbles over to a nearby table, looking back at us with a distressed look.

"I could use some hands filling up plates," she orders, pointing to me and Darren, and motions for us to follow her to the line of guests at a buffet style table.

"Why do I feel like the last kid picked for basketball?" Cleo steps forward, placing a hand on her hip.

"Do you have any experience prepping food?" Maria questions.

She inspects her long fingernails before answering. "No time like the present." We all follow Maria into the kitchen where she hands us each a plastic hair net and gloves.

"Do I really have to wear this?" Darren bemoans, holding the plastic cap with disdain.

I grab it from him and snap it on his head. "Picture perfect," I declare, holding out my hands to frame his face.

"You are loving this aren't you?" he grouses while his hands wrap around my waist and he stares down at me, his eyes dropping to my lips. Instead of kissing me, he grabs the plastic cap and shoves it on my head, pulling it over my eyes.

"Hey!" I pull away, adjusting the cap and tucking a few stray hairs in.

Alistair passes by. "If you want to switch, the answer is hell to the no," he laughs and then stops at a nearby table. "Iced tea, lemonade, water?" he asks as if he's a nineteen fifties cigarette girl in a speakeasy.

"Aren't you a cute one," one of the elderly women at the table says to Alistair.

I hear a troubled squeak from him. "Keep your hands to yourself!"

There"s a line of people extending outside the door, and I hand Darren a large spoon for the green beans and grab one of my own. We get right to work scooping vegetables, potatoes, and gravy, onto countless plates.

"You look familiar," one of the men says to Darren.

"I have one of those faces," he smiles, but I can tell it makes him uncomfortable.

The man moves along, and I glance behind me to see Cleo in the kitchen placing more cuts of turkey into large aluminum pans, her dark curls barely contained in the plastic cap. She peers over at me, posing with her gloved hands, one sharp nail poking through the plastic. She looks so out of place, but I love it. In fact, I love that we're all here, because this is the first holiday I haven't felt alone.

I still can't believe Darren arranged for Cleo to be here, and even though his intention was to have us all at the lake house sitting at a gorgeously decorated table eating a turkey dinner already prepared, with all the sides and desserts, I think it turned out exactly how it was meant to.

Darren's hand rests on the small of my back and he leans over to absently place a kiss to the side of my head. When he does, Cleo gives me a worried look, and I turn away, concentrating on my task.

I'm a runner, and yet standing on my feet for hours is wearing on me. When Maria closes the doors after the last of the people leave with their bellies full, I pull the cap off my head and swipe at the little beads of sweat that have accumulated.

Alistair places the tray down on a nearby table, and Cleo joins us, releasing her curls from the cap.

"I think I might have a career as a waiter," Alistair declares proudly.

"Hungry?" Maria asks, and I realize that I haven't eaten all day. In fact, none of us have. My stomach grumbles and I look over at Darren who is nodding enthusiastically.

Maria laughs, pointing towards an empty table. "Grab a plate," she announces, and we do, loading them with the leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. Burke, the kitchen chef, places a bowl full of rolls and a tray of butter between us, and then he joins Maria on the other side of the table, along with a couple of the other volunteers.

Alistair picks at his plate, gravy seeping off his turkey and into his vegetables. I watch as his hunger gets the better of him and he reluctantly scoops a forkful, closing his eyes as he puts it in his mouth and chews.

"I can't tell you how much we appreciate your help today. It's always hard getting volunteers on Thanksgiving," Maria explains.

"You can thank Darren for that. He forgot to order our food so that's how we ended up here," I confess.

Darren grumbles something incoherent while chewing on a piece of turkey.

"So, you just came for a free meal then?" Maria teases.

"Hey, I worked for this meal," Alistair states, scooping up another forkful of mashed potatoes.

"Whatever the reason, we're glad to have you."

"How do you fund this place?" Darren probes out of the blue.

"We get by on donations and some grants. You look like you could stand to lose some change from your pocket." Marie points to Darren's designer shirt and jeans that probably cost the same as Alistair"s Louboutins.

He laughs and points back at Maria. "You remind me of someone," he jokes, sliding his eyes to me, an amused expression on his face. I know exactly who he's thinking of.

"Someone who kicks ass at getting donations?"

"I'll send a check tomorrow."

"Told you I kicked ass," Maria boasts, pleased with herself.

"Well, I for one, am going to add this to my resume," Alistair pipes up.

"Along with drag queen," Darren adds jokingly.

"Am I ever going to live that down?" Alistair playfully bangs his fist on the table rattling the silverware.

"Not until you fess up on how you ended up in the slammer," Darren counters.

"I feel like I'm missing something," Cleo pipes up.

"I second that," Maria agrees.

"It's nothing," Alistair protests.

"I disagree," Darren counters, turning towards Alistair with raised brows.

"Can we just leave it at hazing?" Alistair demands.

"I'm gonna need context." Cleo peers at both Darren and me for confirmation.

"We had to pick Alistair up at the park police station," I explain.

"I'm still not getting why this is news." She eyes Alistair as if she's already got him pegged.

"He was wearing a dress and heels," I pause, trying to contain my laughter. "They were Louboutins," I clarify.

"A man with good taste." Cleo winks at him.

"See?" Alistair waves his hand to Cleo. "She gets it."

"I'm guessing you're not from here, but there's been a rise in public indecency arrests in the parks," Burke interjects, shoving a forkful of turkey in his mouth as we all stare at him. "Did I not mention that I'm a police officer?"

"Your dress was a little indecent. I'm pretty sure I saw some nip," Darren laughs.

Alistair threatens to fling a forkful of gravy laden green beans at him and I can't contain my laughter.

"Just tell the story!" Cleo demands.

Alistair sets his fork down and flattens out his shirt as if to prepare himself to regale his tales of woe.

"This stays between us," he insists dramatically while looking around the table.

"And the D.C. park police," Darren interjects, to which Alistair rolls his eyes.

"I might have taken a little…" he stops mid-sentence and looks questioningly at Burke who tilts his head.

"I'm off duty," Burke explains, "and frankly, I don't care," he adds, shoveling pumpkin pie into his mouth.

"I might have taken a little ecstasy," he demonstrates the size by using his pointer finger and thumb, and then turns to Darren. "You know how X makes me amorous."

Cleo raises her eyebrows.

"No, I do not," Darren protests, appalled.

"Anyway, I obviously couldn't drive myself home, so my work friends…"

"I thought we had this conversation about friends," Darren interrupts.

"Can I just finish?" Alistair begs, annoyed.

Darren motions for him to continue.

"They put me in a rideshare, and I guess the woman did not take kindly to my compliments." He shrugs. "To make a long story short…"

"Too late," Burke pipes up and Alistair glares at him.

"She pulls over at the park and tells me to get out. Can you imagine the nerve?"

"She could sue you for sexual harassment," Darren points out.

"Well, look who's not a lawyer but thinks he knows everything." Alistair shakes his head.

"I graduated from law school." Darren gestures. "But besides that, I do know everything," he adds smugly.

"These boys are quite entertaining," Cleo says, only to me, and I laugh.

"I had to take a piss and the bathrooms were closed," Alistair continues looking pointedly at Darren with obvious annoyance.

"And?" I ask, because at this point now I'm committed to the story. I have to know how it ends.

"I got caught peeing on a tree," Alistair explains sheepishly.

"That's it?" Darren protests.

"Do you know how many times a day I pee on a tree?" Burke mumbles between bites of his pie.

"You're a police officer," Alistair frets, appalled.

"I'm in a patrol car all day. What do you want me to do?" Burke asks, shrugging.

"Pee at a goddamn gas station like a civilized person," Alistair bemoans.

"Have you seen how dirty those are?" Burke levels him with a stare.

"So you got arrested for peeing on a tree?" I speculate, disappointed.

"Well, that's not all of it," he admits a little bashfully. "When he pointed the flashlight at me, I got startled."

"Please do not tell me what I think you're going to tell me," Darren laughs, shaking his head.

"I turned real fast." Alistair looks between Darren and Burke. "You know how it is. Once you start, you can't stop."

"I'm not following," Maria interjects, innocently.

"I peed on a police officer, okay?"